


Meeting Riddler at the Wayne Ball

by UnrealRomance



Series: Christmas Drabbles [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Meeting You
Genre: F/M, Foreplay on the Dancefloor, Stimulation with no payoff, Suggestive Themes, Twist ending--sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrealRomance/pseuds/UnrealRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so-- right up front. This is a sort of AU from my Meeting You story. The Arkham thing never happened, but Riddler DID break out as soon as he was able.</p><p>Christmas Drabble because the actual chapters are coming slow and I want you wonderful people to be happy.</p><p>So in this case, Robyn and Riddler haven't gone through the Arkham thing-- readers of the story know what I mean --and this little bubble affects nothing from that universe.</p><p>Sexiness, foreplay but no sex. I wanted to keep them both in character, and I hope I managed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Riddler at the Wayne Ball

In hindsight, maybe a Christmas party here is a bad idea.

' _A whole bunch of Gotham detectives, criminal profilers and rich socialites all in the same place?'_

Yeah, this screams 'bad idea' like nothing else. Especially the part where it's the  _Wayne_  manor. Most Rogues seem to have a hands-off approach to anything having to do with the Wayne name for reasons even Riddler won't explain to me- but this might possibly be too good to pass up.

"Oh, look who it is." A gaggle of socialites is eyeing me like I can't see them and talking like I can't hear them. "The Riddler's girl. Why isn't she in prison or at Arkham, again?" A girl with an itty-black dress sees fit to snark. I say 'itty' because it is laughable how much she is  _not_  wearing.

One of the other girls answers her with a sniff. "Because they can't  _prove_  she did anything. So far as anyone is willing to admit, the Riddler's just fixated on her for no reason." Her perfectly curled blonde hair bounces as she talks. Along with her ample- probably-fake -chest.

"I heard he spirited her away just because he was jealous that she talked to another Rogue." Copper hair this time, and a deep purple dress with little rhinestones- or possibly diamonds- embroidered on the hem and around the neckline. "I hope he's good in bed because that much crazy-"

"I'll ask." An older woman amongst them actually turns to seek me out in the crowd. Her silver hair and sunshine yellow dress sparkling in the light of the overhead chandelier. Maybe she dusted herself in glitter.

I turn away and try to find an escape, or at least someone to fake-talk to- but she catches up to me before I can get far.

"Excuse me."

I grimace and turn to face her, trying to get my face to remember that this woman is probably one of the rich-bitches who donates to the police department and it would be a bad idea to piss her off or alienate her. "Yes?"

"The girls and I were just wondering." She taps a fingertip against her bottom lip as she seems to arrange her thoughts. (Sparse as they probably are.) "You're that  _Veritas_  woman, aren't you? Riddler's girl?"

"Riddler seems to think so, but no." I blink and push down the urge to scream to the entire room my not-riddler's-girl status. "Jervis Tetch seems to think every one of the girls he rapes and kills are his 'Alice' but that doesn't make them so."

Her surprise and almost unnoticeable twitch both tell me that she didn't expect me to use this argument. Especially not before she'd gotten to really insinuating anything.

She clears her throat and barrels ever onward. "Well, we were just wondering- that is, how is he?"

For a moment, I'm sure she means to ask after his health. Then I get the double entendre- when I see her expression. I cross my arms and cock my hip, trying to contain the urge to punch this woman in the face and be done with this party. "Last I heard from him was yesterday and he seems to be healing fine."

"You're being coy, how cute." She's looking a lot less like a friendly older woman and a lot more like a vicious shrew. "I meant, is all the hassle with the police and Rogues worth it? Is he  _that_  good?"

My teeth are grinding.

"You lookin' to do a Rogue or just tryin' to live vicariously?" Harvey Bullock has popped up out of nowhere and I could just kiss the guy.

"I doubt anyone is that stupid." I turn my attention to him. "Considering what happens to most of the women who try..."

"Hmph." Granny looks down her nose at me, lifts her chin and pivots. She walks back her little gaggle and I decide to ignore everyone here who didn't come with me, for the rest of the night.

"This whole thing is stupid." Harvey tugs at the neck of his suit and fiddles with his tie. "Suits, no alcohol and a bunch of windbags tellin' us how to do our jobs."

"Not to mention we're a giant target." I agree. "Thanks for the save there, by the way."

Before he can open his mouth, a tray is presented to us.

"I assure you, Wayne Manor is quite safe." A butler has appeared to offer Harvey and I some Apple Cider and Eggnog in mugs. "Master Wayne spares no expense in home defense. We have some of the most advanced defense systems in the world."

"The Rogues make it a game to get past the 'best defenses money can buy'." Harvey points out and takes the Cider. "Where's Jim, anyway?"

"He and Master Wayne are having a discussion in the Library, he'll rejoin you soon." The butler bows and leaves after I take a mug of eggnog.

I sip my mug while drifting away from Harvey's angry muttering. It's warm, full-bodied and sweet. I sidle up to the dessert table and try not to look like I'm running. There are pastries, mini-cakes, muffins and brownies of all kinds and flavors.

I grab a plate and load up on as many peanut butter flavored confections as I can fit on my plate, then head for the guest bedrooms.

I have to brush between people at a few points and grimace when I feel a hand barely skim the small of my back. Could have been an accident, doesn't have to be some perv trying to grab my ass- still it puts me on edge.

I step into a guest room and put down my mug and plate, closing the door behind me. Sighing, I sit at the desk in the room and eat- sipping or dipping where appropriate. The desk lamp is antique and only gives off a faint yellow light, but it's enough to be sure I'm not ruining my dress.

' _I should have refused to come.'_

It's kinda sad when you realize most of the people you know are the criminals. The only other people I know are Harvey and Jim and with Jim occupied... I'm alone here.

' _At least if one of the Rogues were here I wouldn't be so bored. And it wouldn't matter as much what I'm wearing.'_

It's a simple kimono-style dress. Emerald green and embroidered with gold dragons. It shows off some cleavage, leaves a lot of my back bared and shows off my legs to great advantage. Finding a pair of matching shoes was a bitch but I did it!

And of course since I'm wearing green, several people have seen fit to comment on it. Granny was the boldest, and I could almost respect that- if it weren't such a bitchy line of questioning.

' _How many people have insinuated I'm sleeping with Riddler tonight? I think it's up to eighteen, but I might have lost count. It's at times like this I really wish Riddler had never kidnapped me. And naming me his_ Answer _has made a lot of people antsy about me in general.'_

I sigh and pop a cake puff in my mouth, delighted to find creamy peanut butter filling. "Mmmm." I hum happily and lick my lips. "At least the food is good."

"Is it?" I jump at the sound of a smooth, familiar voice. "You've been quite unaware of the room around you for about..." Riddler checks his watch, "A minute and forty-five seconds now. Not wise, especially when you consider what usually happens when you get bored."

"A Rogue pops up and makes me  _miss_  being bored?" I deadpan as I stand and face him.

The smirk that tips one side of his mouth is somehow different than usual. "Precisely."

"What are you doing here?" My tone might be a bit more combative than is wise, but to hell with caution. "This is supposed to be my night  _off_  damn it!"

"Night off?" He lifts a brow and prowls across the room to look out one of the windows.

After I realize his mask is off and he's wearing a different kind of suit than usual, I take a moment to stare at him. (Yes, I'm very ashamed of myself.)

His long, elegant limbs are encased in black velvet that looks impossibly soft. It fits him well, so he probably had it designed and tailored specifically for this party.

"Yes, my night off." I huff. "I've been kidnapped, drugged and sort-of beaten a lot lately- in case you forgot." I lift a brow at him and cross my arms petulantly.

He turns around and leans back against the windowsill. The antique lamp casts a gold shimmer across the velvet of his suit- and the white button up he's wearing under his jacket. I blink for a moment and realize he probably had it  _dusted_  with gold glitter...hell, maybe even real  _powdered_  gold. "I see. Well, you needn't fear. I don't intend to disrupt the party."

Incredulous is the only word I have to describe what I'm feeling. "You don't intend to disrupt it? Are you breaking into a safe on the premises with a bunch of goons and you only  _intend_  for anyone to find out after the party is over?"

"Good guess." He applauds me with silent applause. "But no. I came to observe and be entertained. Perhaps I might cause a bit of social chaos, but nothing with guns and puzzles."

My eyes go flat. "You mean you came to annoy people."

He grins. I admire the new color of his hair as he speaks. "You  _do_  understand me." It's the deepest shade of red I've ever seen. His natural color is more orange. "Would you like to help me cause a bit of that chaos? I can imagine how bored and vindictive you're feeling. I heard quite a few of the comments going around the ballroom and-"

"Ugh." I turn around and rub my temples. "Just a tip: Don't mention those comments if you don't want to piss me off."

"Hm." He saunters up beside me and tilts his head at me. He's left his eyes green, and his hair is long enough to brush his shoulders- swept back in a ponytail at the back of his neck. "Is it so insulting?"

' _What, is he going to pout because I don't think he's perfectly fuck-able?'_

"The fact that everyone thinks I'm screwing a Rogue?" I roll my eyes. "Nooooo. It's not like they're insinuating I'm a whore, or crazy or possibly just stupid or anything."

"I'll concede that." He nods slowly with a tilt of his head and continues to look displeased. "But you didn't seem the type to care what anyone thinks about you."

"I'm not. The questions themselves are just so-" I stop and turn away from him, heading for my peanut butter treasure trove. "They shouldn't be asking questions like that about someone they don't even know."

I go still and straight-backed when a pair of hands curl around my hips. His voice is low as he speaks, breath hot on my ear. "Were you going to say: The questions themselves are just so  _stupid_?"

"Riddler." I put a wealth of warning in my voice. "Don't start this."

"You know, something occurred to me." He speaks so conversationally as he presses the front of his body along the back of mine. "All of those little psychology lessons you gave me, are so enlightening. Not only for dealing with regular people-"

"Riddler-" I grasp his arms and tug.

"But also for figuring  _you_  out. Albeit it isn't a perfect diagnosis, but I believe I've figured it out." His lips touch my jaw so softly I can barely feel it.

' _Oh god, if anyone walks in- I'm in deep shit.'_

I renew my efforts to tug his hands off my hips, but he just shifts his grip. Now his entire arms are wrapped around my waist. "Please don't do this right now. I said it's my night  _off_. I'm not your Answer tonight!"

"Robyn." His tone is a whiplash of irritation and I go still. "Have I ever overtly come on to you as my Answer?"

I blink and try to come up with an example. I can't. He's been way too intimate, but it's never been...exactly sexual. "What are you..."

One hand moves up to curve over my breast, squeezing lightly before moving up to my throat. Gasping like an idiot fish with my mouth wide open, I almost don't realize his other hand has moved back to my waist.

One quick jerk has me facing him, his left hand around the back of my neck- and his right smoothing down my back to settle on my ass.

His eyes are so intense, they've always been  _so_  intense. "So, as you requested. A night off. You are not  _Veritas_  and I am not Riddler. We are simply, Robyn and Edward."

He leans in before I realize my hands are just uselessly hanging at my sides. I jerk them both up to put a barrier between us, to push him back- but only far enough his lips brush mine instead of pressing into them. "You're still a wanted criminal, and I'm still a profiler." I remind him.

"No one has to know." He whispers against my mouth.

"But they will." I lean back and press my lips together. "Like you said, I'm  _honest to a fault_. I'd tell them myself. And you can't lie either, so it'd get out eventually."

"I know." He sighs and presses a kiss to my temple instead. "Perhaps something a bit less...carnal."

He steps back and takes my hand, leading me toward the door. "What are you- where are you taking me?"

"The dance floor." He says, like it's not completely crazy. "My hair will cover my face for the most part and we won't draw attention to ourselves." His hair  _is_  shaggy in the front, showing off his cheekbones to great advantage while also hiding most of his forehead and eyebrows.

"And if someone notices?" He curls me into his side as he reaches for the door and something cold nudges me under the hand on my hip.

"I do have a small knife, tucked up my sleeve." He pokes me with it before putting it away and leaving his hand where it is. "I can threaten to gut you with it, if that helps."

I roll my eyes at him as he pulls me out into the hallway and toward the grand ballroom. It's in the opposite direction from the dining room, so there's not much chance I'll run into Harvey. Jim, though?

The ballroom has an entire ceiling full of crystal and glass chandeliers. They all cast glittering slivers of light, almost like disco balls. It creates the most prom-like effect I've ever seen. Not one of those dinky little proms where everything is done up in crepe paper- one of the expensive, Christmas themed ones with shimmering glass snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.

The walls are painted blue, white and gray in a shifting tableau of snow banks and white-capped mountains.

The dance floor itself?

"It looks like a frozen pond." My lips part as I swivel my head around, taking it all in as Riddler chuckles at me.

"Truly, Bruce Wayne has impeccable taste." Swiveling me around, he grasps my hands and drops them on his shoulders. "Though I can't help but notice he is absent tonight."

"He doesn't spend a lot of time out in the front of his parties." I purse my lips and scoff when his hands press into the curve of my back and the knife makes itself known again. "I think he likes to be late and seem like he's constantly busy. Or maybe he's just too busy maintaining the party to partake."

I choke on my breath a little when he presses me into his body. Hard enough I can feel every line of him under his suit, and yet not enough to seem obscene. "Perhaps."

"I didn't think you were that sexual a guy." I turn my head to speak directly into his ear, so I can make sure no one else hears.

He shivers and responds in kind. "I'm not sexual at all, to be perfectly honest."

"Then what the hell  _is_  all this?" I dig my fingernails into the back of his neck, trying to make it look like I'm just playing with his hair. "You're acting out of character and it's driving me nuts."

"I know." He purrs into my ear with a grin. "That's the point."

"I hate you." I deadpan.

"Mmmm, no. You don't. You want to, but I'm simply too charming and attractive." He's  _preening,_  the bastard.

"What's the point in it if there's no endgame? You don't see the point in doing things that have no ultimate purpose." I know that about him, definitively.

"I suppose I'd have to explain my entire orientation to you." His lips touch my ear and two of his fingertips drift up my spine. "It's not that I'm not sexual, per se." He flicks his tongue at my lobe and chuckles when I jump. "It's that, only things that intrigue me... _excite_  me."

"Oh god." I groan and drop my forehead to his shoulder. "Why is it always me?"

"I could tell you all the reasons I  _think_  you're so intriguing, but I'm going to take that as the lament it was." His right hand is buried in the curled hair at the nape of my neck now. "When I am interested in women, and it does happen very rarely- they are usually witty brunets."

"I'm dying my hair blonde first thing in the morning." I snark.

"Wouldn't diminish the appeal, Robyn." He makes sure to say my name extra low, against the skin of my neck. "It's the puzzle that excites me. What will make them gasp, and writhe and  _scream_..."

I swallow thickly and try to respond, but nothing comes out of my mouth.

"Of course, after a while- it all runs together and I'm confronted with the fact that the woman isn't actually special. I was just physically frustrated and she was less detestable than most others I meet. It isn't saying much, really." His mouth is hidden by the fall of my hair, and I'm glad- because he takes this opportunity to start kissing my neck.

My legs are wobbling and refusing to hold me up with any kind of grace.

His teeth are tugging at my skin here and there, a sharp pinch that's followed by the cool swirl of his tongue. He pauses only long enough to speak. "With you... It's the satisfaction of knowing, even if you won't allow yourself to have me..."

I arch into him when his knee bends forward just enough to brush against the cleft of my thighs.

"You want me." He pulls back to look me in the eye with the most infuriating expression of smug satisfaction on his face.

"You suck. On levels that literally hurt my brain to think about." I grouch at him, pinched expression on my face. The smoky desire in my eyes might ruin the effect.

He laughs and steps back to take my hand and waist in the most common dancing pose ever. He begins to step in time to the music with me, spinning unexpectedly and twirling me around like a puppet.

Following his lead is easy and nearly effortless. I just have to let his grip on me do the directing and follow the rhythm of the music. Still, I feel like a donkey bumbling out here on the dance floor next to a graceful gazelle.

Every turn of his body is a perfect pivot. Every shift of weight is smooth and seamless.

Every few moments he pulls me close and our hips press flush together before we're breaking apart to do it all over again.

My head is spinning by the time the song ends and everyone in the room applauds the band. It's a few seconds before I realize I'm alone here, nearly gasping for air.

I glance around in every direction, but he's completely disappeared.

"Loom." Jim weaves through the crowd and turns aside. "This is Bruce Wayne."

"Nice to meet you." He holds out a hand for me to shake and I hope to god my hands aren't sweating.

He's got a generous coif of coal-black hair, he's wearing the most expensive silk suit I've ever seen and his smile is whiter than I ever thought possible.

"You too. Robyn Loom." I clear my throat and try to erase any sign of my earlier condition. That is, flushed and ready to jump the nearest male object. "Jim tells me you often make generous donations to the police department. Thank you for your support."

"I like to look forward to a better Gotham." He accepts the gratitude in good humor. "The police uphold the peace and put their lives on the line for everyone. They deserve more in the quality of their equipment."

"I agree." I grin.

"It's been too long." Jim mutters.

"What?" I lift a brow at him and he leans in to whisper.

"We got a riddle the other day-" I jolt and he pats my shoulder to calm me. "Said Riddler'd be here."

Mr. Wayne sighs and glances around with calm, unconcerned eyes. "I haven't seen anyone even remotely similar to Riddler and no one has stolen anything- I had everything fit with an alarm. Not just one, and they're extremely hard to disarm."

"Uh..." I flush a deep red at the thought that Riddler had planned to do something like this so far in advance. "What exactly was the Riddle?"

"Here." He hands me his phone and pulls up a photo of a letter. "Batman wouldn't tell me exactly what he planned to steal, but he was certain it would be here."

**...**

**Where do I plan to steal you away, a single momentary chance?**

**How to describe the delight I feel, in the grip of such a trance.**

My heart thuds in my chest as I begin to see what this is. And it's not a riddle.

**I torture myself amongst ice and snow, as I wonder: will you save me a dance?**

"Oh god..." I grimace and hand Jim back his phone. "He isn't stealing anything."

Jim frowns. "Then why-"

"He was just here." I flush a deep red. "He stole 'a dance'. And it wasn't a riddle."

Mr. Wayne takes the phone to look it over. He chuckles, blue eyes sparkling. "Looks more like a poem to me."

My groan of agonized irritation is probably loud enough that everyone in the ballroom can hear it.


End file.
